


Experiments of the Heart

by SMQueen



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Experimentation, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Experimentation, Sexual Tension, Sherlock Experiments on John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-12 06:43:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SMQueen/pseuds/SMQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sex changes things."</p><p>“It’s just an experiment, John. You can try to restrain your emotions, and I promise that you won’t have to deal with any from me.”</p><p>“How do you know that I’ll be the one who has to restrain my emotions? Surely I have more experience with this. Maybe I would be good, really good, and you’re the one who would be dealing with emotions.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“You want to do what?”

“Sex John. I’m sure you’re familiar with it.”

John pressed a hand to the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “Yes, Sherlock. I am familiar with it.”

Sherlock surveyed John carefully, his eyes scanning his face, processing every reaction. “Then what are you confused about? Oh, surely not the issue of who’ll be ‘topping’? I’m very much open to suggestion. What would you say is more pleasurable? Penetrating, or being penetrated? We could do both! After the expected recovery time, of course. And you are several years older than me. Research shows that…”

“Sherlock, stop!” John cut him off before he was able to share every single detail of his research on the particular subject. “God, I don’t… I… I’m not gay. Or had you forgotten?”

Sherlock waved a hand lazily in John’s direction. “Bisexual, sure. Use whatever labels you find most comforting.”

John started to protest. Truly, he did. But his damned brain insisted on reminding him that, well, sometimes, when he was a bit pissed, he did find himself snogging men. It had happened once or twice. Or once a week in uni…

But that wasn’t the point. This was Sherlock. Sherlock making a hasty, rash, completely ridiculous suggestion. He shouldn’t be surprised at all really.

“You can’t just announce that we’re having sex, Sherlock,” John said, letting out a sigh. 

“If I didn’t, how would you know my intentions?”

“No, no,” John tried not to lose patience. “That is not the point. That’s not what I’m saying. You can’t just tell a friend, a good friend, that you want to have sex.”

Sherlock stared blankly at him.

“Sex changes things,” John continued.

“It’s just an experiment, John. You can try to restrain your emotions, and I promise that you won’t have to deal with any from me.”

“How reassuring,” John mumbled, his voice laden with sarcasm. “How do you know that I’ll be the one who has to restrain my emotions? Surely I have more experience with this. Maybe I would be good, really good, and you’re the one who would be dealing with emotions.” John couldn’t help the arrogance in his voice. After all, he did have more experience with this. And he really was quite good.

“Oh, I assure you,” Sherlock said, catching John’s eye. “That won’t be a problem.”

John felt something very competitive twist deep in his stomach but he pointedly ignored it.

“No, Sherlock. End of story.” With that he hastily collected his laptop and disappeared into his bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sherlock didn’t mention the experiment again for a week. John had all but forgotten about it when Sherlock perched himself on the edge of John’s armchair and leaned towards him.

“Have you considered my proposition?” Sherlock asked, his voice low and smooth.

“Excuse me?” John looked up but quickly averted his eyes so not to focus on Sherlock’s lips, which were indeed very close to his.

“The sex,” Sherlock said slowly.

“Sherlock,” John paused and swallowed heavily. “I told you. No.”

“But John,” Sherlock was closer now, his lips very nearly touching John’s ear as he whispered.

“No, Sherlock!” John shouted without meaning to. He clambered up from the chair and backed away from his flat mate. “Stop this,” he said, pointing sharply at his flat mate. “You… you just behave yourself.” 

He tried not to feel too much like a harsh father as Sherlock’s features morphed into a dramatic pout. Without a word Sherlock was off the seat and hurrying into the other room.

That was that then, John thought, as he tried to ignore the blood that had raced, quite without his control, into his cock.

~~~~~~~~~~

This time Sherlock only let two days pass before he was on John again, quite literally, about having sex.

When John woke in his bed, he was shocked to find Sherlock beside him, one arm thrown over his chest, waiting.

“Good morning,” Sherlock purred, leaning forward. 

John’s eyes widened and he didn’t have time to react as Sherlock clambered lazily on top of John. He held himself up with his arms on either side of John. His eyes glimmered as he moved down towards John’s lips.

“Sherlock, god! This is getting ridiculous. Off, now!”

Sherlock’s face fell, but he lifted himself up and stood from the bed.

John sat up, red-faced and quivering with anger. “This has to stop. Now. I mean it, Sherlock. No more. Life isn’t one big experiment. You can’t just go around, having sex with your mates, even if it is for science.”

Sherlock, oddly enough, was silent. His eyes wandered down John’s body, and he smirked. 

“Damn it,” John muttered to himself, when he realized that he was erect. He was very erect. “Sherlock, I’ve just woken up,” he said, his face growing red. “This isn’t…”

“It’s just an experiment, John,” Sherlock said softly, taking a step towards John. “Nothing more.”

“Sherlock,” John said. He tried to sound stern, but his voice hitched and it sounded more like a plea.

“An experiment,” Sherlock said again, taking another hesitant step. He was inches from John now, close enough to touch him.

“But I’m not…” John started as Sherlock leaned ever closer. “I’m not…”

“Gay,” Sherlock said. “Yes, of course.” And with that he cut the distance short and leaned in to John. 

And then they were kissing. And god, it was marvelous. It was more than John had ever let himself consider. Kissing Sherlock Holmes. It was mad. But as soon as he started to doubt himself, Sherlock’s warm lips helped him to forget the doubts.

Sherlock kissed like he did everything else. He was passionate and erratic, and a bit hard to control. John found himself in a war of sorts. They fought for control. Sherlock brought his hands to John’s shoulders, but John found the strength to push Sherlock against the wall. The detective’s back met the wall with a hit that took his breath away. John was there to catch it.

John pulled Sherlock’s lower lip into his mouth and sucked. He welled with pride when he felt a low moan come from Sherlock. He pulled the man closer, and tried to ignore the fact that Sherlock’s chest was hard and undeniably masculine against his own. A slight nip on his upper lip from Sherlock had John fighting for power again.

He was just here, now, kissing Sherlock like it was the most important thing in the world. And oh, oh it really was.

It was warm and wet and so, so glorious, and suddenly Sherlock was far too clothed. John wanted to see all of him. He wanted to see this magnificent, brilliant man who had taken his entire life and turned it upside down.

“Off,” he growled into Sherlock’s mouth as he reached for the hem of his shirt. They didn’t break contact at all as John pulled Sherlock’s shirt over his head. He ran his hands greedily along Sherlock’s chest and pressed closer to Sherlock’s lips. They were so close now and still it wasn’t enough.

Sherlock brought his hands to John’s face and cradled his head softly in his hands. The kisses slowed. Suddenly they felt more sincere. Less lust driven, and more like actual affection. Sherlock took control again and worked his tongue softly in and out of John’s mouth. He lowered his hands and started to remove John’s shirt as well.

“All right?” he asked, breathless, pulling away from John’s mouth for a moment. His gaze showed sincerity that John hadn’t known the man was capable of.

“Fine,” John said, eyes wide, chest heaving. Because he was fine. He was in too far, and he would be damned if he stopped now. He needed this.

Sherlock pulled John’s shirt away and tossed it backwards on the floor. He was against John’s lips again, like he’d not tired of them at all. He pushed away from the wall and led John towards the bed, still kissing him like he was coming up from water and John was his oxygen. 

John felt the edge of the bed against his legs and he fell back onto it, pulling Sherlock along with him. God, trousers. Sherlock still had his trousers on. John still had his trousers on. He fumbled for the buttons and Sherlock smirked against his mouth and reached down to help. After John had thrown Sherlock’s clothes somewhere off the bed, the detective pulled John’s off as well.

They were, pressed close together on the bed, wearing only their pants. And then those were gone as well, in a heated, flustered motion. 

Sherlock was perfect. Really and truly. He was long and lean, his entire body proportional, as John had expected. His cock stood longer than average against a dark patch of hair. Sexuality crisis be damned, John needed to taste all of him.

He slid down the bed, pressing soft kisses along Sherlock’s chest as he went. When he reached his cock he kissed him there as well. A deep groan escaped Sherlock’s lips as John took him in his mouth. He licked and sucked, palmed and pushed, and in minutes Sherlock was writhing under him, begging for mercy.

“John, John, John,” he said over and over again, like John’s name was the only word he knew. “John, stop. Stop.”

At Sherlock’s protests John snapped up immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asked, pushing himself off Sherlock. “Sherlock, what’s wrong? We can stop. We don’t have to…”

Sherlock grabbed John’s shoulders, pulled him toward him, and silenced him with a kiss. “Shut up,” he said against John’s mouth. “I’m fine. That was,” Sherlock shuddered at the thought. “Amazing, John. Wonderful.”

John felt his heart swell with affection and he pressed a quick kiss on Sherlock’s lips. “But?”

“But I wouldn’t want this to be over too quickly,” Sherlock said. “After all, this is an experiment.”

“Ah, yes.” John had nearly forgotten. “Experiment, of course.” He shifted uncomfortably over Sherlock, unsure of where to go from here.

“Now John,”

“Yes?”

“Do stop talking,” Sherlock growled, rutting against his hip in a rather animalistic way. 

“Jesus, Sher…” John breathed, struggling to keep his composure as his cock slid against Sherlock’s. “Fuck,” he murmured as Sherlock reached down to grasp him firmly.

“Do you have to curse?” Sherlock smirked as he pumped John’s cock slowly up and down.

“Shit,” John said, breathless as Sherlock squeezed him almost enough to hurt. “Fucking bloody shit buggering fuck. Yes.”

Still holding John’s cock in his nimble fingers Sherlock took his turn to slide down the bed and take John in his mouth.

“Jesus Christ,” John gripped the bed wildly, resisting the urge to buck into Sherlock’s mouth.

For someone who presumably didn’t have any interest in sex, Sherlock was wildly good. He had done his research. He pressed kisses along the length of John’s shaft before taking him in a whirlwind of warmth and wetness. He took more of John in his mouth than should have been possible, and reached carefully to guide John’s hand into his hair.

John groaned and let his head fall flat onto the bed. He fisted his hand in locks of Sherlock’s hair and lost all sense of composure. Soon he was writhing, thrusting his hips to meet Sherlock, and all but sobbing.

“Sherlock, stop. God, you have to… Sherlock, please. Sherlock, Sherlock,”

But his cries went unheard and, if anything, Sherlock only sucked him harder and deeper. 

“My god. Sherlock,” John couldn’t hold off any longer and suddenly he was exploding from the inside out. Pleasure pulsed through his body and somewhere far away he could hear his own yells and proclamations that he knew he shouldn’t be making. But he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t think about anything. His mind was zeroed in on Sherlock Holmes; bloody god damned Sherlock Holmes, who still hadn’t stopped the unbelievable pressure on his cock.

He swallowed and continued to work John until John was writhing on the bed, the oversensitivity too much to take. Finally Sherlock pulled away with a pop and rolled away from him.

John closed his eyes and panted for a few moments, trying to catch his breath. By the time he opened them, Sherlock was lifting himself off the bed.

“Sherlock, what… wait? I didn’t. I mean, you didn’t. Let me…” John fumbled with his words, his brain still muddled with a post-orgasmic haze.

Sherlock ignored him and picked his clothes up from the ground. Slowly he pulled his shirt back on. He carefully guided his erect cock into his trousers and breathed a deep sigh.

“Thank you, John. That was very informative.”

John gaped and ran a hand over his sweaty forehead. “Sherlock, you didn’t even… get off. Don’t you want?” But the door was closed and Sherlock was gone, leaving John feeling confused and filled with regret.

“Shit,” he mumbled as he fell back onto the bed. “Shit, shit, shit.” Sex changes things.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock was glaringly absent all day, leaving John to wrestle with a world of confusion. When he finally returned in the evening, he acted as if nothing had happened, which only made John’s life more difficult.

“Hello,” John said when he stepped into the living room to find Sherlock sitting in his chair. 

Sherlock gave a small nod, just the slightest indication that he had heard John at all.

“So…” John said, shifting where he stood. “Should we maybe, ah, I don’t know. Should we… talk? Well. About. You know.”

“For God’s sake, John,” Sherlock snapped. “If you’ve got something to say, say it.”

“No need to be rude,” John mumbled to himself. “Sherlock, we… did things. Not friend things. Not normal things. Uh. Um. Messy things. Things that should really be discussed.”

“Experiment, John. I told you.”

“Yes, but…”

“There’s no need to discuss anything,” Sherlock said with a flick of his wrist. “Unless,” he paused, “You feel there’s something you need to say?”

John sighed and took a seat in his own chair. “No, no. Course not. Experiment, right. What are you testing anyway?”

“Not important,” Sherlock said.

“Well, look. I’m involved. Don’t I deserve to know?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Conflict of interest. Would skew results.”

John pressed a hand to the bridge of his nose. “The experiment’s over. How could I skew the results?”

Sherlock turned to look at John for the first time that evening. “John,” he said, “The experiment is certainly not over.”

John narrowed his eyes. “But we…”

“Yes, yes, of course we did. A bit. But every experiment requires repetition. Oh, you’re a doctor, John. You’re relatively intelligent. By normal standards, obviously. You know this. Experiments must be repeated in order to produce accurate results.” 

“Repeated?” John murmured, his eyes widening a bit.

“And possibly modified.” 

“Modified?”

“Do I really need to repeat myself or is this simply a colloquial way that you choose to express your anxiety?”

“Colloquial,” John said. “And it’s not anxiety.”

“Really?” Sherlock lifted an eyebrow.

“It’s just,” John sighed. “I like this. Our friendship, living in this flat, solving crimes, whatever it is that we do... Sherlock, it works. I don’t want to mess things up.”

“How could sex mess things up?”

“My god, your brother was right about you, wasn't he?” John said.

Sherlock’s expression darkened. “Sex doesn’t alarm me. Did you not realize that earlier when I was sucking your…”

“Yes, ok,” John interrupted. “That’s enough. You’ve made your point.” John willed away the blush that crept along his cheeks. “I just mean, well, you really don’t understand how these things work at all, do you?”

“Intercourse? Of course I do, John. I’m not an idiot.”

“Not intercourse.”

Sherlock looked at John blankly. 

“The repercussions, Sherlock. The ways that sex can affect people,” John said, running a hand over the lines on his forehead. “The emotions involved.”

Sherlock leaned forward and fixed his eyes on John. “Did our actions cause you to feel any emotions?” He asked, his eyes narrowing.

“No, no,” John said, perhaps a bit too quickly. “That’s not… No, Sherlock. Don’t worry. I am capable of containing myself.” 

"Are you?"

"Yes," John said, his voice rising slightly.

Sherlock kept his eyes - which flickered with doubt - fixed on John. And for reasons John couldn't explain, Sherlock's doubt filled him with quiet rage. He couldn't be here anymore. He couldn't stand Sherlock staring at him, examining him. Observing his every move. It was too much. John turned and left the flat in something of a hurry, giving Sherlock nothing more than a quick, “I’m going out.”

John came back late and slipped quietly into his room, managing to avoid Sherlock completely. His sleep was restless, but he wasn’t disturbed. The next morning when he left for the clinic, he still hadn’t seen any sign of Sherlock. Probably on a case. Without him. He tried not to feel annoyed as he saw countless patients throughout the day. It was mundane, average. But he was ok with average after the whirlwind that had hit him recently.

Sherlock’s experiment, whatever it was designed to discover, was a terrible idea. He knew that much for sure. It would lead nowhere good and it should be stopped immediately. But John couldn’t ignore the competitive twinge deep in his gut. Clearly Sherlock didn’t think he could do this. This sex without emotions arrangement. He thought John was soft, that he wore his heart on his sleeve and jumped headfirst into feeling too deeply. And he was right, in a way, but Sherlock only knew current John. He hadn’t known him in Uni. He hadn’t known “Three Continents Watson.” Sherlock knew him now, and he was someone different entirely. But perhaps, John hoped, he could revert back to his past. Proving Sherlock wrong wasn’t something anyone did much of, and he couldn’t resist the urge to try.

Of course that wasn’t the only reason for his continued participation in the experiment. Sherlock was… well, he was rather attractive. Anyone could see that. He was hard to say no to. And if the previous day was any indication of his talent in the bedroom, then he was very, very good indeed.

Yes, it was a terrible idea, but for reasons that probably weren’t as good as John convinced himself they were, John continued to participate. When he got back to the flat that evening, he finally, inevitably, ran into Sherlock. Or more accurately, Sherlock ran into him.

John opened the door to find Sherlock pressed against him, pushing him back against the door, using John’s body to close it.

“Sherlock, what,” John was able to mutter, before Sherlock’s lips were against his. He was kissing in a way that they really hadn’t the first time. Then they had been hurried, desperate and panting. Now Sherlock was slow to press against him. Slow to move his lips against John’s. Slow to press his hands on John’s back and pull him in.

For a moment John couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t think, couldn’t kiss Sherlock back, nothing. But then a brief thought entered his mind. Experiment. And he was able to justify this and move on. Experiment, yes. That’s what this was.

John brought his own hands up to cup Sherlock’s face. He pulled away, just for a moment, to take in the brilliance of the man. Sherlock’s eyes were wide and as dilated as John had ever seen them. His lips were already swollen slightly and parted obscenely. Spots of red colored his cheeks. John brought their lips together again and parted Sherlock’s lips gently with his tongue.

Sherlock allowed him in and it was like a floodgate had opened. He was suddenly everywhere. He was in John's mouth, exploring every inch of it. It was hot and wet and slick, as tongue slid against tongue. Then Sherlock was gone and licking along his neck, pressing soft kisses as he moved down toward his chest. When Sherlock moved back up to pull John's earlobe into his mouth John couldn't hold back a low moan. He shivered and guided Sherlock's mouth back to his. He ran his tongue along the lines of Sherlock's lips. He was constantly distracted by Sherlock's mouth. He was so brilliant, so quick, but this was a new kind of distraction. 

He nipped gently at Sherlock's lower lip, and now it was Sherlock's turn to make a sound. The noise he made when John moved down to press wet kisses down his neck was obscene. It was so deep that it was nearly an animalistic growl. The noise went straight to John's cock. Sherlock must have realized his reaction because he found the front of John's trousers and pressed down, causing John to take in a sharp breath of air and lean into the touch. Sherlock tightened his grip and ran his thumb over the head of John's cock. Even through the fabric the sensation was enough to make John stagger and fight to keep his focus. 

He put the feeling into the way he touched Sherlock. John drew his hands down along Sherlock’s chest, working his hands slowly down. He mapped the lines of Sherlock's muscles lightly with his fingers. All the while he pressed soft, sucking kisses along his cheekbones. He grinned a bit against Sherlock's smooth skin at the fact that his cheekbones were so damn easy to locate and kiss.

“What?” Sherlock asked, pulling away when he saw John’s smile.

With Sherlock’s body was no longer against his, John found it a bit hard to catch his breath. “It’s just,” he drew a deep breath. “You’re a bit beautiful, you know that?”

Sherlock’s eyes widened significantly, then narrowed, and he seemed to reach some understanding. He sidestepped John and pulled away from his touch.

John could see that he’d made some mistake and he fumbled to find a way to take it back. “Sherlock, I didn’t… I don’t mean. Oh god. I just meant… Well. Nothing. Nothing, really. Forget I said anything.”

Sherlock’s eyes softened and he stepped back to kiss John gently. “I have all I need for tonight," he said when he'd pulled away from his lips.

“I don’t…”

“The experiment,” Sherlock said.

And John really shouldn’t have to keep being reminded of this, but once again, he had forgotten. “Ah, yes.” He tried desperately to act natural. “Yes, all right. Good. You, um, you’re welcome then.”

“Thank you,” Sherlock said, and it was so rare for Sherlock to thank anyone for anything that John almost thought he’d imagined the words. But Sherlock’s small smile was enough to convince him of what he’d heard. “Shall we go out for Chinese tonight?”

The change of subject jarred John so suddenly that he could only manage a nod.

“7?”

John nodded again and watched Sherlock disappear into his room and close the door. Dinner tonight then. At 7. A normal, public dinner where Sherlock couldn’t possibly try anything sexual. Good. That was good.


End file.
